


Critical Hit On My Heart (Save vs Ecstasy Remix)

by Firelightmystic



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 2019 MCU Kink Bang, And A Responsible Kinkster, Bondage, Book of Carnal Knowledge, Book of Erotic Fantasy, Dildos, Dungeons and Dragons Handbooks Were Not Meant For This Purpose, Edgeplay, Elemental Magic, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Healthy Relationships, I Broke Out My Old DnD Books For This, IronStrange, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Canon, Prostate Massage, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Stephen Strange Is A Doctor First, Stephen Strange is Sorcerer Supreme, Tony Stark is a troll, Vibrators, Wizards of the Coast Doesn't Deserve This, good communication, post-Avengers: Endgame, unrepentant smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-28 21:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firelightmystic/pseuds/Firelightmystic
Summary: If You Give The Sorcerer Supreme A Spellbook...





	Critical Hit On My Heart (Save vs Ecstasy Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morgendaemmerung89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgendaemmerung89/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Critical Hit On My Heart Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225584) by [Morgendaemmerung89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgendaemmerung89/pseuds/Morgendaemmerung89). 



> Written for the MCU KinkBang 2019
> 
> Art prompt by [Morgendämmerung89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgendaemmerung89), who drew such a kick-ass entry. Please take a moment of silence, because they are so awesome, and do not deserve this madness I've inflicted upon the fandom. 
> 
> I have been turned loose without a beta. I _think_ I've caught everything, but apologies in advance for any errors.
> 
> NSFW Art linked in the fic. Someone who knows how to embed please help me. My ~~family~~ fanfic is dying.
> 
> Title taken from the song Critical Hit On My Heart by Marshall Gray
> 
> So. Hey. Did you guys know that there are D20 Sex Handbooks?
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm not sorry.)

 

* * *

 

 

Tony Stark was 40-something going on 9.

Stephen stared at Tony flatly, taking in his lover’s _shit-eating grin_ , the mischievous glee lighting his eyes, and the palpable aura of anticipation he was exuding.

The little monster had obviously outdone himself, and Stephen had known something was up because Tony had grown more and more excited about Valentine’s day, until he’d literally taken to marking down the passing days on the calendar, as if the little ritual could take some of the edge off his waiting.

Stephen could almost say Tony was like a kid at Christmas, except he’d _forgotten_ _Christmas_.

Stephen’s expression turned dour.

“I suppose a nice dinner and symphony tickets were too much to hope for?”

Tony shrugged carelessly. “I hate Shostakovich. I _did_ manage to find something I think will be perfect for you, though.”

Stephen felt wary suspicion creep over him.

“If it’s anything Harry Potter related, I’m _absolutely_ breaking up with you.”

Tony sighed in frustration, genuine offense in his tone. “That was _one time_. Look, you remember when Rhodey and I were investigating that old castle in Latveria a few months ago? And we found that stash of artifacts?”

“You’re giving me a random magical artifact you stole from Victor Von Doom?” Good God, he could just _hear_ the Doombot army flying towards them.

“Hell no, I’m not stupid! I’m giving you a magical artifact I legitimately paid for through appropriate means after I saw something that made me think of you.”

Stephen was still wary, and didn’t bother to keep it off his face. A foolish move, because Tony had been playing bigger and better people like a fiddle his whole life, and he pinned Stephen with a look that made him not only feel like he'd kicked a puppy, but had also gone out and kicked each of it's smaller puppy brothers and sisters and left the lot of them out in the cold to starve. 

Tony slumped and sighed. “You know what? Nevermi-mph!”

Tony relaxed into the sweeping kiss, not putting up any sort of protest when Stephen plucked the gift from his hand. Stephen shifted Tony back upright after another long moment and stepped back enough to open his present, feeling much better about the whole thing. Perhaps he'd been hasty in his judgment.

It was simply wrapped, just a rich wine-red velvet cloth held closed by a thick bronze and gold ribbon. It was elegantly done, and neat, and it would be an easy enough feat to grasp the bow and pull it open with little fuss, unlike the fumbling he would be reduced to with tape and wrapping paper. It was a tiny thing, but considerate, and Stephen loved Tony a little more each time he witnessed such acts.

Stephen leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Tony’s lips, just long enough that Tony began to lean in to the kiss, trying to deepen it. He let out a frustrated whimper when Stephen pulled away, however, and returned back to his gift.

“This is heavy, Tony. What did you get me?” Stephen didn’t even wait for a response, however, pulling at the ribbon and flipping back the folds of the cloth covering the--book?

Well, it was hardly fair to call it a book. It would be like calling the Taj Mahal a nice house, or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel a pretty picture; technically true, but such a _woefully_ inadequate descriptor that it was insulting.

It looked...priceless.

Soft leather so pale a gray it was nearly white stretched from front to back, with delicate tendrils of silver--actual silver--filigree vines laid along the top and bottom. Clusters of sapphires and amethysts dotted the silver vines like berries, each one flawless in quality and cut to exquisite effect, but the true show stopper was the dusting of tiny diamonds across the cover, the brilliant mass stamped deep into the leather where they could not escape, catching the light and sparking fire as he shifted the heavy tome in his hands.

Two massive silver clamps were embedded into the spine, the black antique finish creating a strong accent to the engraving of cavorting nymphs and satyrs.

“What manner of tome--”

Every ounce of goodwill fled as he flipped open the book and was confronted with the enormity of Tony’s dedication to a joke.

Necessity had given him a wide grasp of languages, and Latin was practically _lingua franca_ at Kamar-Taj. He’d never seen it applied to so horrid a purpose, however.

Dungeons and Dragons: 5th Edition

The Book of Carnal Delights

By Anthony V. Rhodes

Oh, he _didn’t._

“Tony.”

He wasn't heard above Tony’s maniacal laughter.

Stephen’s glare intensified as he flipped through the pages of the illuminated manuscript--pages that were thick and felt like rough linen under his fingertips. This was the most extravagant prank he’d seen. Every expensive page was written in flawless Latin, the illustrations surprisingly well-done sketches.

Prestige classes...arousal as a new skill...ah!

Spells.

Stephen’s shoulders slumped in disbelief. “Seduction...is a spell domain?”

Tony _howled_ with glee.

“I hate you.” Stephen’s voice was a low growl as he continued flipping, morbid curiosity spurring him on.

Midwifery domain.

Sex domain, of course.

Stephen froze. Surely he hadn’t read that right.

He had.

“Annihilator’s Penis of Power.”

His words were a slow drawl, full of bemused horror, and Tony staggered, tears in his eyes as he wheezed from laughing himself half sick.

“With this spell, the caster (a creature with a penis or some appendage that functions like a penis) empowers their penis with a steel-hard covering able to withstand any Bobbit attack or penis-puncturing device. Also, it is powerful enough to rupture most chastity belts. Magic ones get a save at -4. It is also a benefit for those who suffer impotence, and has been rumored to assist in preventing sexually transmitted diseases and premature ejaculation! A spell to truly share with friends! Don’t ask what the somatic gestures are.”

Stephen snapped the book shut. “What the hell, Tony?!”

Tony wiped the tears of hilarity from his eyes. “I _told_ you there was an actual D20 sex manual.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “5th edition? That you authored, apparently.” Anthony V. Rhodes. And he’d no doubt had plenty of input--Pepper Potts and James Rhodes might present a more stolid image than Tony ever would, but the observant would notice that where Tony’s mischief led, Rhodes’ more subtle touch often refined the initial flash of inspiration and made it formidable, while Potts quietly twisted the knife and then disappeared the evidence.

“Actually, there were two of them, but they were originally second or third edition? The Book of Carnal Knowledge and The Book of Erotic Fantasy. I went to college with one of the guys who’s running Wizards of the Coast now, and he let me have a go at them. I just updated some problematic wordings and replaced some really awful spells and feats with more inclusive ones.”

“How inspirational.” Stephen tapped at one of the silver filigrees. “I dread to ask, but how much did you spend on this nonsense?”

“A couple of grand. It was worth it though.” Tony’s lips twitched. “Don’t think Friday hasn’t been recording every glorious second of this. Now here’s your real gift.”

Tony tossed Stephen a black crushed velvet pouch. Already burnt once, however, Stephen was hardly surprised to discover a set of antiqued silver dice, the faces embedded with tiny sapphire chips.

“Nothing? Not even a frown? Exposure to me is usually volatile…” Tony looked thwarted, now that Stephen wasn’t reacting to his shoddy idea of humor.

“This is horrifying, really. Come on, Strange, growl for me. Let me know you still care.”

Stephen was nonplussed. “Quoting Next Generation will not win you any points here.”

“Ah, but what about symphony tickets?”

Well, that was a horse of a different color.

“I am not easily bought, but proceed, salesman.”

Tony stepped toward Stephen, running a hand down his midnight red suit before he gripped at the lapels, drawing him closer. “The Boston Pops.”

“Oh?”  

Stephen always _had_ harbored a fondness for the Pops…

Tony traced the ridges of Stephen’s muscles; the charcoal gray mock turtleneck he wore wasn’t tight, but the rigors of Sorcerer Supreme kept him in far better shape than he would have been in otherwise.

“Star Wars, Episode IV. They’re doing a live score of the whole movie. I got us the best seats in the house.”

_Nice._

“I am appeased.” Stephen pulled Tony flush against his body with his free arm and started to lower his head for a kiss before he paused warily. “Who shoots first?”

Tony looked affronted. “If Han doesn’t shoot first, we’re leaving. We can have a special lightsaber duel in the backseat. I’m sure your schwartz is as big as mine.”

“ _Classy.”_

“Eh, it was either that or an offer to re-enact the Death Star Trench Run on a more intimate scale.”

Stephen huffed out a laugh at Tony’s unrepentant grin. “Let’s go before I decide to dump you in the doghouse after all.”

Stephen started to toss the book aside, but paused.

That was _a lot_ of effort Tony had gone through, and no matter the use, intent and craftsmanship were major components of spellcraft. Tony had poured himself into creating this tome, prank or no, and that in _meant something._

Stephen stared at the book thoughtfully.

“Do you remember what I told you about magic, Tony? That it was 95% will and 5% actual ability?”

“Yes?”

“Your little prank was clever, if not exactly _amusing_ , and as in all things you have a hand in, thorough.”

“What are you getting at, here? _”_

“All the craftwork you put into the physical binding of this book, the... _spells_ ...you selected, the surprisingly accurate translations? You imbued this with so much of yourself, charged it with your own will. You forged a tome steeped in lust and mischief and packed with an incredible amount of potential, and handed it to the _Sorcerer Supreme._ The _things_ I could do...”

“...Okay, now I’m horny _and_ intrigued.”

“Let’s go, Tony.” Stephen sat the book aside and began to make his way toward the elevator.

“But hold on--”

“If we miss the opening crawl, I’m not touching you for a week.”

“Oh, come on, you can teleport!”

“I can. I don’t think I will, though. Let’s take the Veyron.”

“Stephen, wait! You don’t get to say something like that and then just walk off! Ste--” Tony’s outraged voice was cut off as the elevator doors closed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Thank you.”

Tony stopped his inspection of Stephen’s practice room, noting the addition of the massive pentacle in the center of the room, and the myriad candles clustered strategically around the room so that whole room was lit with a soft warm light. The last time he’d been in this room, there had been a light switch and some awful track lighting, and no pentacle.

Then again, that had been two lightbulb blow-outs and a thwarted demonic breach ago.

“It was a great Valentine’s Day. The symphony was spectacular, Han shot first, and dinner was amazing. I never knew there was such a thing as pho burritos. I’d written pho off as one more casualty of the accident.”

“I made you teleport us.” Tony reminded Stephen as he turned to face his lover, shrugging away the awkwardness Stephen’s sincerity caused him.

“You often do. But it was _thoughtful,_ and I enjoyed everything.”

Stephen drew Tony into his arms, cutting his argument off with a slow kiss.

“Indulge me once more?”

Tony nodded, shivering as Stephen’s beard brushed over his skin and feather-light kisses were pressed across his skin.

“I think I might like to test out a few things with that tome you gave me.”

Tony laughed, then, pushing Stephen’s face away. “It’s a dud, just a stupid D20 handbook. Let’s go back upstairs.”

“But _I’m_ the Sorcerer Supreme. Will and talent in spades.”

Tony stilled. “You actually think you can get some of them to work?”

Stephen shrugged. “I _did_ manage to find a few things worth attempting.”

“I knew you were in the bathroom too long!” Tony laughed triumphantly as Stephen walked him backwards towards the pentacle, unzipping his pants and tugging at his shirt.

“No one cares about Luke moping about the old hermit he just met. It was as good as time as any to sneak away until the space battle. Now get those clothes off.”

“Mmmm.” Tony couldn’t argue the point, and instead quickly undid his tie and started in on the buttons of his shirt.

Together they made quick work of his clothes, Tony handling the finer motions Stephen wasn’t capable of, while Stephen tugged and yanked them off, tossing them towards the chaise lounge with surprising accuracy.

“May I bind your hands?”

Tony considered, then nodded. Just the hands would be fine. He wasn’t as fond of restraints as he had been before Afghanistan, even if it had been over a decade, but this wasn’t too restrictive. It wouldn’t set him on edge, and Stephen had proved himself trustworthy time and time again.

Tony held his hands out, watching with interest as the mystic rope Stephen summoned wound its way neatly around his hands, forming an intricate knot.

“Comfortable?”

Tony tested the rope, marveling at how it felt like silk against his skin, slippery and soft, but had no signs of heating up or chafing at his wrists. In fact, it had just enough give that Tony could wriggle his fingers and twist and pull at it, but it wasn’t budging.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Stephen finished stripping out of his clothes and tossed them carelessly across the room to the same chaise-lounge Tony’s clothes were occupying.

Tony still would have preferred this all go down in their bedroom, but Stephen flat out refused to test out experimental magic in an unwarded or under-protected space, and his spell room was almost a fortress in its own right, all manner of sigils and wards and defenses built into it. If something went wrong, the energy would be sapped straight out of the spell and it would safely fizzle.

Much better than, oh, blowing a chunk out of the ceiling of the mansion or the Avengers compound. In all fairness, it had only happened once, but that had been more than enough incentive for Stephen.

Stephen walked the pentacle, runes and sigils activating and glowing pale silver in his wake, now nude, and Tony took the opportunity to ogle.

Stephen was a masterpiece hidden behind the curtains--or in this case, some really frumpy robes--and it never failed to take him by surprise just how gorgeous the man actually was.

Wizards were supposed to be inactive intellectuals, but Stephen was cut from a vastly superior cloth, it seemed, and was glorious in his nudity, far more toned and muscular than any wizard had the right to be--wizards were _squishy_ dammit, not ripped stick fighters who smelled like incense and smoky spices and musk. Apparently wizard school had a pretty damn stringent gym class, and fighting demons probably made for some pretty intense cardio.   

The ambient light from the candles surrounding them cast a light sheen over all that wonderful skin, revealing the long-faded scars across the broad planes of his chest and arms. Every muscle and scar had been well-earned; Stephen was strong, and wily, and his enemies had been thwarted, and he wore the battlefield of that experience well.

Tony couldn’t resist the tremor that went down his spine as Stephen stepped straight into his space, lifting his chin up with the tips of two of his fingers. Power was a heady thing, and it was rare that Tony came across anyone that could match him in either presence or ability. Stephen drew him in closer, lips barely brushing against his as he spoke. “What’s your safeword, Tony?”

“Safeword.”

“Check-in colors?”

“Traffic light. Green for all systems go, yellow is take it easy, red is stop and reassess.”

“I’m going to cast two spells on you. The first one to...ease you open and accommodate a girthy intrusion, if you will. The second is a lubrication cantrip.”

Tony stared at Stephen for a long moment. “You’re seriously going to use those fake spells for stretching and lube?”

“95% will, 5% ability.” Stephen reminded him. “I’m sure I’ll have no trouble.”

“Okay, sure. Why not. Magic sex prep.” Tony shook his head, mystified. “LARPers eat your heart out.”

Stephen stepped back and pointed at Tony’s groin, whispering an arcane command under his breath.

Tony let out a startled noise as muscles that usually required quite a bit of attentive stretching and coaxing into pliancy went soft and loose on a warm rush of energy, slowly bleeding away. It was discomfiting to suddenly be so open, but damned convenient.

He hoped Stephen held on to that spell. Quickies would be a lot more interesting, to say the least.

Stephen reached forward and teased at his opening, and letting out a pleased hum when he was able to easily bypass the ring of muscle. Another muttered word, and a thin, slick sensation filled his hole. Stephen’s finger was back, prodding at his opening and slipping in quick and easy. 15 minutes of work, knocked out in a matter of seconds.

He could _almost_ be jealous of Stephen for that.

Almost.

Stephen left him there, strung up and waiting for his indulgence, and reached for the tome Tony had gifted him, flipping through it while Tony grew more and more indignant at being a glorified ornament, finally settling on a page with a rather triumphant, “Ah hah!”

That didn’t bode well.

Stephen made a gesture with his hand and it was enveloped in a hazy teal light.

“That’s a neat party trick.”

Stephen arched a brow and reached _into the page_ , as if he was digging around inside a bag or drawer. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He pulled out a wavy red glass rod with folds along the shaft that looked like a cross between the tip of a flower petal and a stylized flame.  

Tony knew where that had come from.

Page 149. The Elemental Rods of Tantra.

That had been a _joke,_ a whimsical page filler because you didn’t make a D20 handbook without special items, and he’d needed _something._ That something had been magic dildos. It had been an idle musing, a throwaway byproduct of a moment's daydreaming, and Stephen had reached into some mystic realm or another and just...pulled it into reality.

Oh. Fuck.

The rod didn’t seem like it was very hot, though Tony hadn't overlooked the fact that it was glowing like a banked ember, and as Stephen brought it closer, Tony realized that it was definitely giving off some kind of heat.

“Trust me?”

“I let you tie me up, you know.” Years after Afghanistan, and Tony still didn't like being too restrained. It helped that Stephen had gone for just his wrists and not hands _and_ feet, or an intricate Shibari pattern.

“ _Tony…”_

“Yes, I trust you.” Tony barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes--Stephen’s was a menace, but he was also a stickler for consent and his partner’s peace of mind, and Tony could do far, far, worse than that in a bed partner.

He actually had, once upon a time.

Stephen placed the rod against Tony’s skin, letting him get a feel for the temperature. It was definitely warm, but not burning hot, not even uncomfortable. No worse than what he’d get off a decent heating pad.

Still, it was going _in him_ , and that was a whole other ball game.

“Relax for me. The instant you don’t like it, I’ll take it away. You have my oath.”

Tony yelped as he was suddenly floated up into the air, only a few inches off the floor, then pushed backwards until he was sitting with his legs splayed wide.

“Stephen!” Tony glared balefully at his lover, who _did_ roll his eyes.

“You look like a cat about to fall out a tree.”  Stephen ignored Tony's hiss of annoyance. “It’s a cushion of air. You won't fall, or be uncomfortable like you would be on a hard floor.”

“Warn a guy!” Fucking. Magic. Tony remained tense, because _he was sprawled out midair for the taking._

“Also, it gives me better access.” Stephen readjusted Tony into a neater position, ignoring the disgruntled mumbling, and held up the flame rod.

“Ready?”

Tony nodded, going tense as Stephen knelt beside him on the cushion of air and brought the rod down, a trail of heat going from his hip down and around until Stephen worked his arm under one of Tony’s legs and pressed the rod against his opening.

It warmed the lubricant Stephen created, and that’s wasn't so bad; he’d played around with heated lubricants before.

It was definitely a banked warmth, but not entirely awful, and Tony relaxed, let his legs fall open a bit more, giving Stephen better access.

This was...doable.

Probably would be amazing soon enough.

Stephen worked the rod in a bit more, letting Tony adjust to girth and feel of it, and when he didn’t call a halt to the proceedings Stephen went for it.

More and more was pushed in until Stephen got it deep inside him, not quite resting against his prostate, but close enough that Tony trembled and shook in anticipation.

The first lick of magic sent him bucking, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get away from it, or if he wanted _more._ The magic rope kept him tethered mostly in place, though, and Stephen was quick to take advantage of that fact by pushing more of the flame rod inside of him.

It was smooth, but startlingly warm, and Tony alternately relaxed as his walls clenched over the heated rod and tensed up, because _Stephen hadn’t stopped moving the fucking thing_ , and the heated flares of magic swirled deep within him and sparked gently against his prostate, and it was both the weirdest and most amazing thing he’d ever felt.

Stephen hummed in approval when Tony’s body finally decided that it liked it, it liked it _a lot,_ and Tony began to writhe and grind on the rod, the magic slowly setting him ablaze with pleasure, flickers of sensation falling like cinders over his nerve endings.

It was overwhelming, and he couldn't stop himself from convulsing, from hunching because he’s almost coming, he _could_ come just like this, just a bit more...

Tony chased after the feeling, but Stephen shifted the rod, and the peak he was suddenly falling over plateaued, and he moaned piteously, bereft and resentful. He was so warm, so limber and blissed out; he could feel the magic all throughout his body, like Stephen had somehow turned his blood to molten gold and sent a warm pulse of sensation from his prostate to the tip of his cock, through his arms and fingers and down through his legs to the soles of his feet. It was a lazy, soothing sensation, like he was getting fucked tenderly inside out.

Stephen muttered a word in his ear, and things flared bright, sharp inside of him like embers on skin, and he was gone again, shuddering and arching and twisting on his tether, fingers clawing at his palms as he threw his head back and sucked in air, slipping away into a golden haze of sublime ecstasy that left him feeling like he was overheating, like he was about to burst into flames.

Tony was reminded suddenly of Extremis, wondered if he was red and glowing--he felt like he should be--but Extremis was unstable and deadly, and Stephen was nothing if not controlled with his powers, he would never risk him like that. Trust and affection welled up, and it was an instant reaction with Stephen’s magical torment, volatile and destructive. It all blended together into a perfect storm of emotion and sensation and he felt his release wash over him and it...it was dull?

What?!

Tony was full of outrage and no small amount of horror when he realized that his orgasm was receding, being muted down and _ruined_. Unwelcome clarity brought things back into focus, and he could hear Stephen muttering in...some language he didn't know fuck about, honestly. He was way too strung out to decipher anything outside of a few choice expletives.

“What…” Tony drew in a breath, steadying himself. “What did you just do to me?” His voice was rough with lust and frustration, but more under control.

Stephen held up a dense orb that looked solid, but was swirling with red and gold miasma, like a fancy paperweight. “Of course, it would be that color…”

“ _Strange--_ ”

“Your orgasm.” Stephen’s answer was distracted and contemplative, like a scientist with a new find to examine.

His orgasm. Well fuck, wasn’t this night one for the books. This was like some kinkster nerd’s fever dream of a DnD session gone wrong. Tony very carefully ignored the fact that it was all his own fault, and focused on the fact that Stephen was holding his damn orgasm in his hand, rolling the orb back and forth like a twisted version of the Goblin King.

_Look Tony, I’ve brought you a gift. It’s a crystal, nothing more nothing less. But if you turn it_ ** _this way_** _and look into it, it’ll show you your climax..._

“The hell!?!”

“You can have it later. We’re nowhere near done yet.” More attentive now, Stephen set the orb aside, and removed the rod, placing it with the orb.

Tony couldn’t hold back his whine at the feeling of emptiness or the receding warmth, and twitched fitfully, utterly denied and loathing it. Tony glared at Stephen, then at his poached orgasm (what the actual fuck), not sure what issue he was going to raise first, but certain that there was no small number of them.

Anything he was going to say died in his throat as Stephen flipped to another page in the tome and reached through it, much the same as the first time when he’d produced the fire rod, and produced another “artifact”.

Oh.

That was how things were going to go.

Oh no.

Stephen would be all night with this. Tony tugged against the magic rope to no avail.

Stephen held the next rod up, twisting it this way and that in the soft candlelight. Where the fire-themed rod had glowed with an inner light like an ember, this rod was translucent and muted blue, with a hint of dim silvery light within it that shifted this way and that, casting shadow and creating subtle color variations. It was like looking up toward the surface while deep underwater, and for a moment Tony could’ve sworn he smelled seawater, heard the crash of waves.

Stephen twisted it again, and with a start, Tony realized that the rod wasn’t _solid._

It wavered and shifted like ferrofluid, and he marveled for a moment at what was, essentially, a non-Euclidean sex toy.

Lovecraft eat your heart out.

Stephen shook the rod firmly, and it elongated into an almost tentacle-like extremity. “Hmmm…”

Tony shifted under Stephen’s speculative gaze, a tremor going down his spine as Stephen’s mouth quirked into a wicked smirk.

“Shall we?”

Tony didn’t whimper.

He didn’t.

The rod was cool against his skin when Stephen traced it down his straining erection and back towards his opening, and slick, and it was such a contrast between it and the flame rod that he squirmed away for a moment in shock.

Stephen merely used his magic to shift the rope binding him to a different position, one that brought him up straighter and enabled him to press the water-rod in.

Between the bespelled lubricant and the liquid-like properties of the rod, it slipped inside him easily, a smooth glide that left him gasping in shock and startled delight as it immediately began to move within him with gentle undulations, the only part of it with any solidity the very base, which was wide enough to not immediately slip back out and withstand the instinctual clench of his muscles at the intrusion.  

It was like rocking waves, and Tony let himself be lulled into a swaying, rolling grind against Stephen, seeking any kind of ease he could against his kneeling lover.

It wasn’t much, because Stephen was a _tease_ , and kept shifting just out of Tony’s reach so all he could do was wriggle and squirm like a fish on a hook. Stephen murmured something under his breath and made a deliciously lewd movement with his hand, and Tony yelped and shuddered as the rod’s movement suddenly changed, and it _rippled_ , then began to--it--oh that was--

Tony let out a long, low moan as it continued to twist and coil and wind around inside of him, pressed directly against his prostate. He clenched down, but the rod was too slick, too shifty, too damn unstable past its base that was holding him open while all of physics was violated in the pursuit of driving him _insane._

Stephen released the dildo after making sure it was firmly lodged inside, and pulled Tony into a fevered kiss.

It was messy and wet, all tongue and teeth and helpless cries that Stephen drunk down like it was fine wine. It was maddening and wonderful, and Tony writhed against Stephen as his pleasure built slowly but steadily with the ebb and flow of the rod.

Stephen’s hands were busy, brushing here, stroking there, caressing every inch of Tony’s skin and working him up and up and all Tony could do was hang there and endure, trying to convey with every moment of his kiss how great it would be if Stephen _would actually fuck him already._

Instead, Stephen trailed his hands back up to brush against the hardened nubs of his nipples, and then pinched down on the right one. Tony screamed into Stephen’s mouth, arching his back into it and losing all control of his rhythm as Stephen continued to play with them, tweaking first one, then the other, rolling the tight buds between his thumbs and index fingers, the electric prickling sensation scattering across his nerves, and sending him reeling between that and the cool liquid lick and swish of the water-rod.

Stephen finally broke the kiss, pressing kisses across his mouth, down his neck, his chest, his beard scratching against his sensitized skin until he was breathing over Tony’s right nipple.

“ _Stephen--aah!”_ Tony’s voice broke off into a keening whimper as Stephen took the throbbing, aching nub into his mouth, the rough surface of his tongue and moist warmth both soothing and intense, and Tony began to pant lightly as Stephen sucked and lightly nipped and _licked_ , every bit of sensation going to his aching cock.

“Stay still.”

Yeah right. There was no way he could be expected to obey that order. Tony was too far gone to be still, had no intentions of it, trying to chase some kind of relief between the dueling pleasures.

Stephen had apparently been serious, though, because he dropped his hands down to Tony’s thighs, pinning him in place so that between that and the rope he could barely move at all.

Stilled and restrained, Tony could do nothing but cry out in growing desperation as Stephen switched his attention to the other nipple, hot fire sweeping through his body as the cool, unyielding assault on his sensitized inner flesh built more and more pressure within, coiling into an overwhelming sort of crest. He was riding it too high, the curve of pleasure too steep, and any moment he would haze out and capsize under the weight of it all, drowning in an abyss of ecstasy.

He both dreaded and _needed_ that release, and it was so close, he could feel it bubbling up inside of him like newly struck water, the swish and swirl and sliding of the water-rod easing him closer and closer to completion as Stephen licked and suckled and teased until he stiffened, unable to take it anymore, but not quite over the edge.

As if sensing the peak he teetered on, Stephen bit down, the sharp pain just enough to blow everything apart and send him careening over the edge into --

_NO!_

Actual tears of frustration prickled at his eyes as Stephen repeated that travesty of a spell, leaving him thwarted and wanting and as dazed as he was affronted.

“Dammit, Stephen!”

Tony let his head drop into the cradle of Stephen’s neck and shoulder, growling in frustration and panting for breath as both the now firmly solid rod and orb were set aside.

Stephen pulled away, settling him back into his original position with a gentle kiss.

“You’re doing so well, love. You’re so gorgeous like this.”

“Wanna _come_ .” Tony barely recognized his own voice, thick as it was with sex and petulant frustration, slurred with pleasures. He punctuated his demand with a tug at Stephen’s _bullshit magic rope_ , to absolutely no avail. This whole evening had been outlandish and awful and he would never have produced that damn book if he’d known that _this_ was what would be waiting in store for him.

Lies.

He would’ve added extra chapters.

Stephen reached for the book, and as before, drew out another artifact from within its pages.

The first two had been beautiful, whimsical things, but this one…

It was a massive lump of a thing, like a glorified stone that was covered in ridges and bumps and as thick around as four of his fingers. If that thing went in him, it was going to be a tight fit for sure, and he didn’t doubt that he would feel every inch, every bit of its uneven surface.

Like a fool, he got harder, as if it wasn’t going to end in another pilfered orgasm and quite possibly attempted murder on his part.

Stephen kissed him softly, briefly, then held up the stone-themed rod.

“Ready?”

“Oh, fuck me.” Tony muttered, anticipation warring with the certain knowledge it was only going to end one way.

Stephen’s expression was dark and menacing as his eyes flicked over Tony’s flushed and straining body. “Eventually.”

Stephen drew closer and pressed the rod against his hole with little preamble, and, fuck, there was no give to it, no warmth, no frills; just rock-solid and _there._ The lube spell Stephen had cast was standing him in good stead, though, because there was no chafing or discomfort--outside of the lack of an orgasm, anyway--and Stephen slowly pushed the rod in.

Oh fuck, it was massive, oh fuck, oh fuck…

Stephen quieted his broken gasping with a soothing hand at the back of his neck, his thumb slowly tracing circles on the sweat-damp skin.

Tony shuddered and whined as he was stretched even more by the rod, the bumps and ridges wreaking havoc on his flayed nerves, the relentless press inward sending him twitching and shuddering and Tony knew without a doubt that it was going to rub inside him _spectacularly._

It was an achingly slow nudging--it was too thick for anything like a glide--and when it finally was fully inside him, pressed right against his prostate, Tony sagged in relief, panting for breath and shivering because holy crap, it was even bigger than he anticipated.

“ _Stephen,_ oh fuck, _please, I can’t--”_

“You can, I think.” Even with the denial fresh off his lips, Stephen examined him for signs of duress, waiting to see if he would safeword.

“I’m _fine,_ just fucking _do something.”_ Tony demanded. He loved that man, even if he _was_ going to snap and maybe murder him.

Stephen took that as permission apparently, because he _did_ do something, and Tony thought he very well might go mad.

A deep, pulsing buzz--so heavy it was more a rumble than anything--went through the rod, and there was no tamping down the horrified wail as it thrummed on steadily.

A vibrator.

It was a giant fucking vibrator, and all he could do was hang on, completely overwrought. It had been too long, too many thwarted climaxes, and he had been on edge _forever_ it seemed like, and now this?

It was going to _ruin_ him. He knew orgasms. He was an _expert_ on orgasms.

He’d had many orgasms in his life, most of them really damn good ones.

He knew how his began, with a sharp curl of pleasure and a halting stutter in his hips, and the usual length and intensity, how things went fuzzy and slow as he came, the dark slide into languor, the boneless sated collapse of his physical autonomy in ecstasy’s wake.

He knew the hasty frenzied thrill of a quickie’s climax, the delicious agony of being milked dry, his partner riding him long and hard until he seized up and howled, head thrown back and left reeling, sweat running down his neck, his arms, his thighs as his joints and muscles released and went wild ad he bucked and writhed and moaned and spilled more and more of himself in pulsing waves.

He was no stranger to the almost overwhelming flares of sensation deep within as he screamed and begged and _pleaded_ _and shattered,_ fingers viciously clawing at his sheets as his knees and feet lost purchase and he went face first into the bed and surrendered, quaking with the rough elation of being stuffed full again and again, fiery bliss bursting within him at every thrust as he kept coming in spurts until he collapsed, fucked out and drunk on sensation.

He knew orgasms in and out and he knew without a doubt that this one would put all of them to shame.

If Stephen _ever let him come._

Tony struggled in his bonds, tugging desperately against the magical rope Stephen had conjured, but it felt smooth as silk against his wrists and had about as much give as titanium, and all Tony could do was writhe ineffectually as Stephen indulged his more mischievous impulses.

“Ste--Stephen, please--”

Tony strained against his bonds, throwing his weight forward then side to side, unable to entirely escape the seemingly eternal sensation of the slow vibrations deep inside him. It was too much an hour ago, when Stephen had made him take inch after inch of the first elemental rod, and it was unbearable now, this new rod themed on stone that was twice as wide as the first and peppered with smooth bumps and ridges that filled him completely and thudded slowly against his walls and prostate with powerful sustained pulses.

Tony moaned low and desperate, head hanging limply between his arms, eyes squeezed shut as he panted and twitched, beads of sweat rolling down his flushed neck, his fingers curling and uncurling, clutching at nothing. Stephen made an approving noise as Tony bucked helplessly, swaying into his personal space, spurring him on with helpful twists and nudges of the rod.

Tony didn’t so much moan as rumble deep in his chest as Stephen toyed with the stone wand, nudging it closer and closer to his prostate until Tony tensed up in anticipation, then angled away, twisting the wand so that the bumps and ridges worked over his sensitized walls, and he was _so full,_ and there was no _give,_ and if there was just a bit more pressure, just a bit stronger vibration, it would be enough to tip him over the edge and it would be so good, so perfect, so, _so,_ _so good._

He was a mess, he knew he was, covered in sweat and tears and panting raggedly for breath and his cock--he’s never been so hard--it’s jutting up, erect and heavy between his legs, leaking precome all over his stomach, his thighs, all over the floor as it bobs up and down with every movement, and his balls are plump, firm and round and he’s _aching_ for release, he could explode, it feels like, but Stephen is merciless.

Tony sobbed brokenly, letting his head loll against Stephen’s palm when he brought it up to caress his face.  

“Tony, honey, breath.”

“ _Please!”_ Tears of frustration leaked out of his eyes, he wanted _so badly_ and he couldn’t--and it’s not even his discipline anymore keeping him on edge, it’s that _fucking spell Stephen keeps using_ , and he--he--

Stephen pressed a kiss softly against his temple. “Colors, Anthony.” His voice was commanding, firm, and no doubt close to calling a halt to everything. Tony maybe missed the question the first time around, too twisted up in his own head.

Stephen eased up entirely, letting enough sensation bleed off that Tony wasn’t so overwhelmed, but he’s still primed--fuck, he could go off any second if he just had the right stimuli--and there wasn’t any doubt that nothing would go forward unless Stephen was satisfied with his response. Stephen held his oaths seriously, and he wouldn’t hurt Tony--or let him hurt himself--not willingly. Tony sagged against Stephen, blinked away the stars in his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Check in with me, love. Green? Red? Yellow?”

Tony drew in a long breath, then sighed gustily, “I--I’m okay. Green.”

“Tony--”

“ _Green_ , Stephen.”

“Tony are you sure you--”

“Get to work Strange, or untie me and I’ll do it myself!”

Stephen was quiet a short moment, then his eyes narrowed as he pushed the stone rod directly against his prostate once, twice, and Tony was coming, he was-- _oh fuck, not again, not again_ \--

Tony screamed in frustration as Stephen whispered an arcane word and the climax he’d been right on the cusp of receded, drawn out of him in yet another ball of swirling red and gold energy that Stephen set aside next to the other two.

Dammit.

It...it was fucking _nerve-wracking_. Now he was just really horny all over again, and all that glorious sensation was another vague memory, and he kind of wanted to throttle Stephen. Gently. Maybe not permanently. Maybe he just wanted to get loose and tackle the asshole, ride him until he was finally sated.

All the tugging in the world against the magic rope, and nothing worked. All he succeeded in doing was riling himself up more. If Stephen went digging around in that stupid book again, he was activating his nanos and repulsoring it until it was a smoking pile of ash.

Tony gasped as Stephen pulled the stone rod out in one slow, twisting motion that sent bursts of intense sensation up and down his body, and set it aside next to the flame and water rods, suddenly left empty and aching. His opening actually twitched, and he clamped down on nothing, and this was a bad idea, definitely one of his worst, and--

Oh.

Fuck.

Stephen continued to slide into him from behind, hot and heavy and hard, and Tony just let himself revel in it, entirely unresistant as he was shifted this way and that under Stephen’s weight. When Stephen finally let him be, he was left kneeling, but leaned so far forward that his torso was at an almost 45-degree angle from the floor, his arms stretched taut and continuing the line he formed, as if frozen in the middle of deep supplication.

And maybe so.

Tony whispered Stephen’s name like a prayer, low and fervent and pleading as he slid out and back in, inch by relentless inch.

Stephen pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s shoulder, traced his lips along the ridges and planes of his muscles. “Will you be okay, love? Too uncomfortable?”

The angle _was_ harsh, but it wasn’t painful. Not yet. He’d had worse during Yoga Thursdays with Natasha. Honestly, the only thing he needed was Stephen to _keep moving._

Granted, “fucking move, Stephen” was not the ideal answer to his lover’s question, and in fact, all it earned him was a disbelieving hum as Stephen ran assessing hands over him. That was Stephen though, a doctor first and far beyond anything else.

Stephen murmured another word and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Unlike his other kisses--which were spectacular all on their own, this one was warmer than normal and accompanied by a flash of light.

Warmth welled up, thick and lazy like syrup through his veins, and Tony sighed gustily, luxuriating in the soothing relief as tension fled his body, leaving only a haze of pleasure and desire and a burst of restored energy. Tony hummed contentedly and rallied, squirming and twisting against his bonds, grinding against Stephen as if he could tempt him into moving harder, faster.

“Stephen, love, _please…_ ”

There was another kiss, a normal one, this one pressed against the side of his neck, and then Stephen fussed over him, his hands falling to Tony’s hips to angle him just right, and he drew out, slowly, so slowly, and Tony strained backwards to chase the thick glide of him but stopped short, the rope keeping him from going too far in any one direction.

Stephen slammed back in, wringing a broken whine from Tony’s throat, and stilled, keeping Tony flush against him. Tony panted for breath but went limp again, throwing his weight down so that he could settle on Stephen’s cock, the thick shaft pressed perfectly against his inner walls and the blunt head resting against his prostate.

Stephen drew back out again, just as slow, and rocked back into him, setting a leisurely pace as he began to work towards his own pleasure.

Tony let out a low, keening wail, twitching and jerking on Stephen’s cock, completely at his mercy and glutted on the sensation. It was too much, the pleasure too sharp, the flare of bliss too constant, and Tony was suddenly aware of his body racing towards a peak, and it was nothing like he’d ever felt before.

He was supposed to fall, it always felt like falling as he got closer to his climax, but this...the drag of Stephen’s cock dragged him _up_ towards a strange peak, every driving nudge against his prostate sent brilliant motes of light dancing behind his eyes and explosions through his pleasure centers, and he was skyrocketing towards new territory too intense to endure.

He gasped for breath, felt himself flushing from the tips of his ears all the way down his body, burning hot with the pleasure of it, and _fuck,_ he was so wet with it, sweat all over his body and the mix of lube and Stephen’s own precome making him sloppy as he slid into him so easily, over and over again. It was all so much, and all Tony could do was hang on his tether, hands grasping at the air, fingers curling and uncurling clenching into fists and scratching at nothing, and--and--

Stephen whispered a word, some arcane thing that Tony barely even registered above his own ragged cries and a nearby shattering of glass, certainly didn’t understand it, but then his body seized and nerves went haywire as the afterimage of that first would-be orgasm flashed through his body like a nuclear explosion. It was like everything suddenly magnified, the intensity leapt exponentially and everything went white and his ears were ringing and his throat was sore, and oh, he had been screaming, was _still_ screaming, he couldn’t stop, it was like a thousand supernovas in his body going off.

It was with a mixture of horror and awe and apprehension that he realized he hadn’t come yet, though; he had just been thrust onto a new level of exquisite torment, and Stephen was spurring him on, driving him towards an ecstatic peak that he had never contemplated before but was rapidly approached.

Stephen slammed into him once, twice, again, and Tony’s eyes snapped open as his nerves blew apart and there was another shattering of glass in the background, and then an afterimage of that third climax blew across his senses, and he could feel that deep, pounding vibration and a blast of lightning flashed through his veins and there was nowhere to go, no relief, no escape, no defense. He was _consumed._

He didn’t have an orgasm, no, this was beyond that.

This was...an eradication, an utter destruction.

He succumbed and fell apart, lost somewhere between ecstasy and euphoria, dissolving again and again with every thrust.

“Oh God, oh Tony yes, that was perfect, ride it out, sweetheart.”

Stephen wasn’t stopping, Tony realized somewhere in the back of his mind. Stephen just kept fucking him through whatever catastrophic supernova meltdown of an orgasm that had been, chasing his own release with long hard thrusts that sent powerful jolts of sensation all through his body.

Every stroke rocked him to the core, pooled fire low in his belly and sent electricity sizzling through every inch of his body and stars sparking across his vision, and he fell limp, the wet slap of Stephen’s thrusts punctuated by throaty gasps and wet sobs of overstimulation and it all _turned,_ went all bendy and off-kilter, and between one blown brain cell and the sudden incineration of another, Tony realized he was going to come _again._

Stephen’s hand clamped around his cock, slippery now with his spend and lube, and Tony howled his release as Stephen jerked him demandingly, milked every drop of his release out of him as he cursed and huffed and spasmed under Stephen’s merciless onslaught until he seized and went still with a ragged moan as the world went brilliant white.

He barely registered Stephen grasping him tight another long moment, pumping more and more liquid heat into him as he rode out his own orgasm, and then collapsed on and around him, dismissing the magic rope entirely as he bore them down to the floor.

Tony had no kind of strength in his arms and just collapsed flat into a sprawl, gasping weakly.

“Tony?” Stephen finally ventured.

“G’way. M’dead.” Tony twitched weakly and then once more, wincing at the aftershock of his climax. God. Maybe he _was_ dead. If so, he went out like a champ. He was wrung limp and dazed and his ears were ringing and his head was spinning, and maybe part of his brain had melted?

“Tony, we need to get up.” Stephen ran a hand down his hip, a bit of smugness in his voice along with the patient needling.

“‘F’ck off. Can’t move. I think I lost IQ points.”

“That’s not remotely possible.” Stephen chided, but he did curl Tony closer into his arms, and that was the important thing. Tony mumbled happily as something warm fluttered down over them, heavy and comfortable.

“Cloak?”

“Not on your life.” Stephen wrapped the summoned blanket tighter around them and pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’ll regret this if we stay down here all night.”

Tony babbled something that might have been an “I love you”, or an ancient Sanskrit curse for all he could form words, and drifted away with a soft murmur, unaware of the last remaining orb Stephen reached up for and tucked under the blanket for later.

 

**Author's Note:**

> _...and then you appeared with your composite bow_  
>  and said you'd liberate me from my shackles  
> and notched an arrow imbued with the power of love  
> and aimed a called shot straight at my cockles 
> 
> _and rolled a critical hit on my heart_  
>  (critical hit on my heart)  
> critical hit, critical hit on my heart 
> 
> _now just roll maximum damage  
>  and i will belong to you..._


End file.
